“Every village has its Cæsar,” said the priest, “and this is ours. He has been elected King of the May for these five years successively He is second son to our old steward, and a very worthy, as well as a very fine young fellow.”
“I do not doubt his worth,” returned I, peevish ly, “but it certainly cannot exceed the condescension of his young mistress.”
“There is nothing singular in it, however,” said the priest. “Among us, over such meetings as these, inequality of rank holds no obvious jurisdiction, though in fact it is not the less regarded; and the condescension of the master or mistress on these occasions, lessens nothing of the respect of the servant upon every other; but rather secures it, through the medium of gratitude and affection.” The piper had now struck up one of those lilts, whose mirth-inspiring influence it is almost impossible to resist.* The Irish jig, above every other dance, leaves most to the genius of the dancer; and Glorvina, above all the women I have ever seen, seems most formed by nature to exce in the art. Her little form, pliant as that of an Egyptian alma, floats before the eye in all the swimming langour of the most graceful motion, or all the gay exility of soul-inspired animation. She even displays an exquisite degree of comic humour in some of the movements of her national dance: and her eyes, countenance, and air express the wildest exhilaration of pleasure, and glow with all the spirit of health, mirth, and exercise.
* Besides the Irish jig, tradition has rescued from that
oblivion which time has hung over the ancient Irish dance,
the rinceadh fada, which answers to the festal dance of
the Greeks; and the rinceadh, or war dance, “which seems,”
says Mr. Walker, “to have been of the nature of the armed
dance, which is so ancient, and with which the Grecian youth
amused themselves during the seige of Troy.” Previous to the
adoption of the French style in dancing, Mr. O’Halloran
asserts, that both our private and public balls always
concluded with the “rinceadh-fada.” On the arrival of James
the Second at Kinsale, his adherents received the
unfortunate prince on the shore with this dance, with whose
taste and execution he was infinitely delighted: and even
still, in the county of Limerick and many other parts of
Ireland, the “rinceadh-fada” is danced on the eve of May.
I was so struck with the grace and elegance of her movements, the delicacy of her form, and the play of her drapery gently agitated by the air, that I involuntarily gave to my admiration an audible existence.
“Yes,” said the priest, who overheard me, “she performs her national dance with great grace and spirit. But the Irish are all dancers; and, like the Greeks, we have no idea of any festival here which does not conclude with a dance; * old and young, rich and poor, all join here in the sprightly dance.”
* “The passion of the Greeks for dancing is common to both
sexes, who neglect every other consideration when they have
an opportunity of indulging that passion.”
Glorvina, unwearied, still continued to dance with unabated spirit, and even seemed governed by the general principle which actuates all the Irish dancers—of not giving way to any competitor in the exertion; for she actually outdanced her partner, who had been jigging with all his strength, while she had only been dancing with all her soul; and when he retreated, she dropped a simple curtsey (according to the laws of jig-dancing here) to another young rustic, whose seven league brogues finally prevailed, and Glorvina at last gave way, while he made a scrape to a rosy cheeked, barefooted damsel, who out jigged him and his two successors; and thus the chain went on.
Glorvina, as she came panting and glowing towards me, exclaimed, “I have done my duty for the evening;” and threw herself on a seat, breathless and smiling.
“Nay,” said I, “more than your duty; for you even performed a work of supererogation.” And I cast a pointed look at the young rustic who had been the object of her election.